


Mereth an Lyth (Feast of Flowers)

by lferion



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Community: fan_flashworks, Counted Word Fic, Dessert & Sweets, Feastday, First Age, Flowers, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Prompt Fic, Triple Drabble, kingship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: Some days, being King was truly a test of endurance.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Drabbling in Middle-Earth, fan_flashworks





	Mereth an Lyth (Feast of Flowers)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Siobhan Meadbh, Morgynleri & Runa for encouragement & sanity-checking.
> 
> Originally posted on Fan Flashworks [here](https://fan-flashworks.dreamwidth.org/2079682.html) for the prompt 'Box'. Written also for the Seasons Greetings challenge on the Silmarillion Writer's Guild. Inspired by the Yule/Twelfth Night feast season in the SCA, though none of the feasts I've attended at high table or low has been as much of a trial.
> 
> Sugar glass is a thing. As are candied flowers.

Among the duties of a king is presiding over public festivities, sitting at the high table at feasts official and celebratory. Some of those feasts are more organized than others. Some are definitely more palatable than others. Most fall on a continuum of organization and edibility, with the greater number being on the higher end of both qualities. Some failed at one and excelled at the other. It was a very small number that failed at both. Unfortunately, this feast was apparently one of the later. Cook and steward had been frantic with efforts to salvage the occasion, and Fingon (High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth, for good, ill, sorrow or joy) refused to add to the difficulties of the event. So he smiled, was gracious, ate what was set before him and drank sparingly of the un-watered wine.

Some days, being King was truly a test of endurance.

At last the main courses were announced, served, and eaten; all that was left was the sweets course. Given what had preceded it (over-spiced and under-seasoned, tepid-to-cold from the kitchens, nearly everything but the bread cooked a little too long) Fingon did not have high hopes, but smiled anyway.

A serving cart was wheeled into the hall on the heels of the herald, stacked high with what looked like small boxes made of crystal or ice, which were in fact made of sugar, formed clear as glass, and filled with jewel-bright candied fruit and flowers, one box per every two people. (Fingon was given one of his own, apparently made especially for him, for the contents was all blue and silvery-white — elderberries and whortleberries, white rose petals and borage and cornflowers.) It was astonishing and beautiful and quite delightfully delicious; salvaging the entire feast, as far as Fingon was concerned.


End file.
